


Birthday Box

by EAU1636



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Dumb birthday shenanigans, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26752909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EAU1636/pseuds/EAU1636
Summary: Dotty and Max meet for drinks to celebrate her birthday, and Dotty picks up a little something to celebrate.
Relationships: Dorothea Frazil/Ronnie Box, Max DeBryn & Dorothea Frazil, Max DeBryn/Endeavour Morse
Comments: 18
Kudos: 19





	Birthday Box

Dotty shivered a bit as she stepped out of the crisp October evening and into the pub. She approached the bar and ordered her usual scotch on the rocks, and made it a double. It was a special occasion after all. The usual Thursday night crowd milled around, a few familiar faces from past dalliances casting longing looks her way. She spotted Max at a table in the corner and made her way over to him.

Max gave her a welcoming nod. “Miss Frazil.”

“None of that tonight, Max. We’ve been friends too long. Where’s this sudden formality coming from, anyway? Morse rubbing off on you?” She asked with an implicative cocked eyebrow.

Max gave a half gleeful, half embarrassed grin and a rosy hue crept into his cheeks.

“Naughty, naughty,” Dotty said, raising her glass in a toast.

“To you tonight, surely,” Max responded with good humor, raising his own glass to her.

“To me,” Dotty agreed, clinking their glasses lightly.

“How is it that we’ve grown so old?” She asked, a note of wistfulness in her voice. “Sometimes I wonder if the best is behind me.”

“That time of year thou mayst in me behold  
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang  
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,  
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.” Max quoted with mock mourning and a twinkle in his eye.

Dotty smiled. “You’re right, I’m being overdramatic and needlessly sullen, and you get enough of that at home. I can certainly still make them sing,” she said, her eyes roaming over the other patrons in the pub appraisingly. “We’re in the prime of life. Thank God I’ll never be in my twenties again. Though there are a few nights in my thirties I wouldn’t mind reliving.”

“Quite” Max agreed.

The two friends drank and gossiped and joked together for a couple of hours. Dotty kept an eye on the pub, making note of who was who and what they might have on offer as the evening wore on.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to head home soon,” Max said finally, “Though I do like to keep him waiting.”

They both grinned. Morse deserved a little torture.

“ And how, may I ask, will you be celebrating tonight?” Max inquired

“I was thinking of getting myself a little something I’ve had my eye on.”

She cocked her head towards the bar, where a burly, lumberjack of a man stood. He was all hair and muscle and steely, cocksure gaze, squeezed into a tantalizingly tight polo shirt. He took a deep swig from his pint, and Dotty and Max watched his thick throat as it worked to swallow down the drink.

“He’s a bastard, but not without his charms,” Max admitted.

“Those arms...” Dotty said, biting her lip.

“Yes. From a strictly anatomical standpoint, he’s... well... But he’s certainly not intelligent. And far from nice.”

“I’m rarely looking for nice, Max, and certainly not tonight. ”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of rough now and again.”

“Mmmm. No, all that brute needs is a firm hand,” Dotty murmured.

“Well then, I’ll wish you goodnight and good luck, though I doubt you’ll need it.”

Dotty doubted it too.

As Max made his way towards the door, she walked over to the bar and stood next to Box. She inhaled the coarse scent of aftershave and bad decisions. A sable lock of hair hung down loosely over his forehead, curling a bit with sweat. He was looking down at his pint, his big hands wrapped around it, a bit of the condensation from the glass dripping down onto his fingers.

She reached her own hand up and curled her fingers around the chiseled bisep beside her, her hand barely able to circle halfway around its girth, and pressed herself lightly against Box’s side as she let out a satisfied hum.

He looked over at her, an arrogant, insolent interest in his eyes, half flattered and half challenging.

Dotty met his gaze steadily and grinned, knowing she was well up to the challenge.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it's dumb and short and plotless. But it was fun to write :) Happy Birthday to Abigail Thaw!


End file.
